she comes on like a rose in june (but really she's a jezebel)
by AvaRosier
Summary: Lydia Martin makes a decision about where she belongs in the pack. Derek does not understand that Lydia does not need to be a werewolf to be alpha female. Of course, this necessitates Lydia stealing Derek's car and then defiling it in order to get his attention.
1. Chapter 1

Lydia Martin clutched the keys in her hand like a trophy. Her black heels made a satisfying _click-clack_ on the wooden floorboards of Derek Hale's front porch. Each echo sounded like a taunt.

When she had decided on this course of action yesterday, Lydia had promptly made an appointment at her nail salon for a manicure and pedicure. Her perfectly un-chipped nails served as battle armour. And OPI's _An Affair in Red Square_ made such a striking contrast as she stroked the Camaro's onyx paint job lovingly but with a hint of menance.

Lydia didn't bother to look furtive; she simply inserted one key into the lock at the driver's side door and tossed her purse into the passenger seat. She very nearly purred at the feel of buttery leather under her bare thighs when her dress rode up as she settled behind the wheel.

She buckled herself in, turned the ignition until the engines woke up with a rumble, and beamed at the car. "Ohh, aren't you a beautiful baby? Yes you are." She sang to it. Adjusting the rear-view mirror, Lydia smirked at herself and arched an eyebrow. "Let's go have a little fun before Daddy comes back home!"

With that, and the roar of gravel under the wheels, Lydia alighted from the Hale house with Derek's car.

It'd been a long time coming, everyone would agree on that. Lydia did not appreciate being dragged into the furry alternate universe that her friends had been inhabiting for the past year-and-half or so. She was still seething over being possessed by Peter and being slowly driven insane while her so-called friends had kept her in the dark. Even now, the others (especially alpha werewolves whose name began with _D_ and ended with _erek Hale_) tended to ignore her opinions and concerns by dismissing her out of hand. "You just don't understand, Lydia," they would say. "You're new to this." And even then, they'd still come to her with counciliatory smiles and ask her to translate some obscure section of the Bestiary.

(She actually had a digital copy of the entire thing, which she had already translated, but she didn't think they needed to know that quite yet.)

It wasn't like she hadn't gotten the stories out of everyone else already. It wasn't like she hadn't already figured out that Allison's mother hadn't been bitten by Derek and guessed that Gerard Argent was using the pills in that little silver container to suppress something supernatural. It wasn't like she had seen the things that the rest of the pack had missed because they were too busy angsting all over the place to actually sit down and talk with one other?

Please, like that was hard.

With the arrival of the mysterious Alpha pack, several people, namely Stiles and Jackson had insisted that Lydia be brought into the fold (and Allison would've agreed with them had she been on speaking terms with them). So now, she was "required" to attend those awkward-as-hell pack meetings under the guise of _sticking together_ and _learning how to defend herself._ Honestly, she spent most of the meetings half-listening for useful information and the other half fantasizing about re-enacting _Hard Candy_ with Peter.

Even with Peter no longer inside her mind, and even with her as-of-yet unspecified immunity, Lydia hadn't been left unscathed. It wasn't that she wanted to be a thorn in Derek's paw. She just…didn't know where she belonged. And to be honest, she didn't think Derek knew either. The one thing she struggled the most with was the certainty that, if she was to really become a part of the pack, that would mean letting down her defences in certain ways and letting the others in closer. For a girl who had spent a long time only letting people see the carefully constructed act she put forth, the prospect of intimacy was daunting.

After a great deal of soul-searching (and the filling out of several pros and cons lists which were subsequently shredded) she had decided that resisting her involvement with the pack was futile, and if she was going to be a part of that ragtag…family…then she was going to make sure it ran like a well-oiled machine. Every time she sat in the abandoned Hale house or the streetcar and listened to everyone argue or train, she felt a persistent itch to assert her rightful place among them.

This is how Lydia found herself at loggerheads with the Sourwolf himself.

The entire pack, wolf and human alike, had gone deathly quiet with shock when Lydia had sat there, twiddling a ginger curl around her fingers, a perfect 'No' on her perfect lips. She had then provided him with an even better strategy, only to be dismissed with a curt 'forget it'. Probably everyone could've seen through the fake smile she shot his way then. Derek didn't get it.

Lydia didn't even need to be a werewolf to be an alpha female and run the pack.

You see, Lydia Martin liked to do what Lydia Martin wanted. She was also very intelligent and as her teachers had said, she had great leadership qualities. In the pack, Derek was the Alpha, the others were the Betas, Stiles might have been human but he was very much the heart (and sometimes brain) of the operation. And where did that leave her?

She had contemplated with this for a good while before concluding that really, there was no option but to be alpha female and be the brains behind everything. It'd make good practice for taking over the world someday. She just needed to make Derek Hale understand that. And since Lydia was not in the business of lying to herself, she freely admitted that she didn't just want to be an alpha female next to Derek, she wanted to rule the pack _with_ him.

As much as she'd like to say it was just a hormonal thing, a small part of her could honestly say she found him endearing in a angsty, broody way. Only angrier than David Boreanaz. In his own way, he really did care for his betas and Stiles. He just needed someone to point out his ill-conceived plans and provide the others with better strategies because, bless his heart, Derek had had a lousy track record so far. And also communication: communication was key. She'd make sure every single member of the Becon Hills pack knew all the details they needed to stay alive and not go running off to the Alpha pack.

And for the moments when communication failed, there was always grand theft auto.

And so here we find Lydia, driving around the outskirts of Beacon Hills with the radio blaring _Gypsy_ by Dio.

"_She was straight from Hell, but you never could tell… cause you were blinded by her light. So she cracked my brain with magic pain and turned my left around to right, right."_

As she sang along with the radio, she enjoyed the feel of the wind blowing through her hair and yanked on the wheel when she spotted a small clearing off the side of the dirt road she had been on.

There was nary a creature in sight. Her first order of business was to shimmy out of her black sweaterdress, revealing the nearly opaque green slip she was wearing underneath. A bit more maneuvering, and she was tossing her bra into the back seat. She'd leave it there for him to find afterwards.

Lydia rummaged through her purse for a moment, ignoring the rattle of small objects in a silver bottle, before locating the tube of lipstick she had been looking for. She kneeled in front of the rear-view mirror and slowly, methodically applied the deep red wax onto her lips. Stealing an Alpha werewolf's car as a bid for a dominant role within his pack necessitated the use of M.A.C.'s _Russian Red_. Her smile was downright feral as she smacked her lips together.

(It was like Stiles had told her once, looking up at her with awe after she'd gone a few rounds with Derek: _"You're mad, impossible Lydia Martin. You're red and terrible and red_.")

She left a heavy imprint of her lips on the inside of the windshield.

Lydia began to crawl around the front seat, pressing into the leather with her hands and knees. She toyed with the cream-colored satin filigree on the hem of her slip. The left strap slid off her shoulder, exposing one small and rounded breast to the cool air. She let the bare nipple brush up against the seat while she placed her chin on top of the head-rest. Swaying her hips from side to side, she hummed a song to herself and let herself get lost in fantasy.

She was going to mark Derek's baby in a way that he would not be able to escape. He couldn't ignore her now.

The heady rush of power manifested itself between her thighs. Her limbs felt warm and languid as she tugged her slip over her bottom and sat down in the passenger seat- nothing between her and the leather. She marked it with her glistening arousal, rolling her hips back and forth against the seat.

_"L'amour est un oiseau rebelle"_ began to play over the radio.

Propping one foot on the dashboard, bending the other leg over the gearshaft, she caressed the skin along her inner thighs. What should she think about as she defiled Derek's car, she pondered. Perhaps she would touch herself to the memory of taking Jackson, pretty Jackson, with her strap-on while he shuddered beneath her, absolutely wrecked.

No, no she would…in this car, it would only be fair… Soft moans filled the vehicle as she wondered if werewolves like Derek could smell what she had imagined while touching herself, Lydia giggled as she rocked herself into her hand.

Lifting her slickened fingers to the stereo system, she tweaked the volume control so the operatic voice filled the vehicle.

_L'amour est enfant de Bohême,_  
_Il n'a jamais jamais connu de loi._  
_Si tou ne m'aimes pas, je t'aime._  
_Si je t'aime, prends garde à toi!_

Smiling at the thought of Derek smelling exactly where she'd smeared herself, Lydia grasped the steering wheel with her wet hand and leveraged herself over into the back seat. There, she had freedom to lie on her back and reapply herself to the task of getting herself off.

With her left hand, she cupped a breast, luxuriating in the feel of a silky nipple pressing against her palm. With her right hand, she explored the sensitive folds, gathering lubrication on her fingers before slipping two inside.

"Ohhh, god!" She profaned, shuddering as she ground her pubic bone against her palm.

Writhing against the backseat, she arched her back into one hand and jerked her hips into the other. In her mind's eye she pretended the car door was open and Derek was glaring down at her, nostrils flaring at the scent of her heat. He wouldn't be able to resist Lydia for long, of that much she was certain. Her thighs shook as her inner muscles clutched her fingers tighter, and she began to fuck herself in earnest.

The knowledge of what would likely happen after Derek returned home tonight and smelled the state his car was in spurred her along. Scissoring her fingers, Lydia fucked herself to the image of an irate alpha werewolf above her. Red eyes all for her. As she ground her clit against her palm, rotating her hips into each thrust of her hand, Lydia felt her orgasm coming on quick. She slid her other hand from her breasts up to the sensitive skin at the juncture of her neck and shoulder.

When she dug her nails into the skin there, she could almost pretend the flash of pain was from a set of teeth. She held her breath fast as she went flying over the edge and then released it in low, sustained moans. Removing her fingers from her still-contracting pussy, she frantically palmed herself in an effort to wring every precious ounce and spasm of pleasure from her body.

Lydia laid prostrate in the backseat with her legs still sprawled wantonly. When her breathing evened out, she opened her eyes and sat up on shaky thighs, not caring about the wetness she left behind. She caught sight of her reflection in the rearview mirror. Her hair was mussed, her lipstick a little smeared, and her bright green slip was twisted haphazardly around her body.

She felt powerful.

Ignoring the bra on the floor of the backseat, Lydia instead climbed back into the drivers seat, purposefully touching as much of the vehicle as she could with the hand that had been so busy scant minutes before. She could scent-mark with the best of them, Lydia decided with a hysterical giggle. She pulled her dress back on and re-applied her lipstick, but made no effort to fix her hair.

She drove the Camaro back to Hale house and dropped the keys into the shaking palms of a terrified Isaac.

Ruffling his wheat-colored curls, Lydia cooed. "Don't worry about it, sweetie. You won't be in trouble. Nobody can say no to me, you know that." The poor baby could only swallow and nod.

"Do give Derek my regards!" She trilled and gave him a little wave before sauntering off down the road that led back to town.

_Showtime._


	2. Chapter 2

Thanks to saucefactory on Tumblr for hir great characterization of Derek, which helped me write the second half. I paraphrased some of hir post.

Chapter Two

Darkness had fallen when Lydia exited the CVS that sat on the edge of nowhere. It was just around the corner from a mainly residential area and it was still fairly far from where she lived. Not that it mattered to Lydia. She wasn't really worried- it wouldn't take Derek long to track her scent here. She hummed a nonsensical tune as her red lips slid over the cherry Tootsie roll pop that was keeping her mouth occupied in the meantime.

She had no sooner walked beyond the circle of fluorescent lights in the parking lot when she saw the ominous black Camaro parked across the street. The Alpha himself was leaning against the side of the car, leather jacket pulled taut over his arms and shoulders, looking for all the world relaxed as he waited for her.

That was an illusion. Lydia knew that under the awful grin he was giving her, his muscles were coiled and ready to spring.

_("You're a good man, Derek Hale. No, you really are.")_

She beamed at him from across the street and then crooked her fingers in a wave, pulling the lollipop away from her mouth so she could sweep away the reddish curls being blown across her face by the damp breeze. Derek's smile melted away then, and he let his red irises show. Now, she was aware that the act was supposed to terrify her. But Lydia simply shivered with the anticipation of it all and the answering tingle between her thighs brought on a low, sweet heat in the rest of her body. She hoped Derek could smell it from all the way over there. If he could smell anything over the 'Lydia Martin Was Here' graffiti she had left on his precious car.

Looking both ways, she crossed the deserted street into the comforting cover of darkness. "Hello, Derek," she sighed gratefully. "I'm glad you made it, my feet were beginning to hurt from all the walking I did in these heels." Pouting up at him playfully, she saw his eyes sweep over her body, zeroing in on the lack of bra underneath her dress.

His grin was mocking and feral. "Well, we can't have that now, can we?" Derek moved away from the car and stalked closer to where she stood, nostrils flaring when he glanced down at her tongue darting out to coat the tootsie roll. He dropped the grin and glared at her. "You tainted my car with- with your…" he fumbled for words. Oh, but he could be precious!

"I rubbed my cunt all over your car, is what you want to say, Derek." She enunciated slowly. The sugar from the candy was making her lips sticky. "Would you like to know what I was thinking about while I touched myself?" Her red lips closed back over the lollipop and the noisy suction broke the silence of the night.

Sighing and throwing back his head, the man before her looked like he was praying (or trying to remind himself why killing her would be a Bad Thing).

"Are you a ghost, Derek?" she asked, eyes pinning him in place.

"Not this again." He sighed tiredly. Lydia held her lollipop aloft and with her right hand reached out for his face. His five o'clock shadow bristled against the softness of her palm. Caressing her thumb over his cheek, she murmured softly, "I'm not saying I love you. But I'm saying that I wouldn't just be performing a role with you. You need to start living again- you won't be able to build a pack properly until you do." With that, she padded over to the side of the Camaro and leaned against the driver's side door.

"I care. Does that make me weak? Even if I'm human and immune to your bite- do you think I'm weak for caring about you and everyone else?" She insisted in a low voice, testing him.

(_"You think that wanting to love, or be close and intimate with another person is a weakness- and that you must not want those things."_)

"No," he finally said. "You're one of the strongest people I know."

When Derek moved closer so that he was pressed up against her, he stared down at her and his voice rumbled like the gravel under her heels. "_If the moon smiled_," he quoted, one corner of his mouth quirking upwards, "_it would resemble you. You leave the same impression of something beautiful, but annihilating_." Her smile matched his. "Sylvia Plath, I approve. Although for a while there I would have preferred _A Mad Girl's Love Song_." Reaching upwards again, she combed her fingers through his spiky hair. Lydia tugged gently on his scalp, eliciting a deep groan. His eyes drifted shut, dark eyelashes fluttering against his cheekbones.

She used her hold on his hair to bring his lips to hers. The first kiss was gentle, and her lips were left tingling. She wanted more, more, _more_… The second kiss was an exchange of sighs as both bodies curled into one other. Lydia raised herself onto her tippy toes and slid one hand under his jacket, feeling the bunch of his muscles and shoulder blade through the thin Hensley. As the bare skin of her knees brushed against the rougher material of his jeans, Lydia began to be consumed by fire.

She captured his lower lip between her teeth and nipped at the flesh before soothing it with a flick of her tongue. They parted, breathing a little harder. Lydia didn't mind that he could probably hear her heart pounding clear as day. "Cherries," he murmured, pupils dilated so far she could barely make out the earthly green of his human eyes. "You taste like cherries."

This time it was his palm cupping her jaw, holding her prisoner to the insistent press of his lips. The first lick of his tongue against the seam of her lips, she was opening her mouth up to him, allowing him to taste,_ oh god_, to taste the sweet, tart bite of cherry against her tongue and the roof of her mouth. A moan was rent from her throat and in a flash, she could feel the softness of his lips and the bristles of his beard against her throat. Without a bra on, her nipples were pressing against the bodice of her dress. Derek scraped his teeth, a hint of fang, along her throat while one of his hands palmed a breast. While she shuddered in his hold, he bent down further to mouth a covered nipple; she let out a breathy '_oh_!' when his lips closed over a nipple and pulled.

Lydia rolled her hips into his, eyes opening just enough to make out the stars in the pitch-black abyss above her.

In a move of controlled grace, Derek slid to his knees before her and smoothed his palms over the cotton material of her dress. His touch burned through the dark material all the way down her hips and thighs. She gasped as he pressed her bottom back against the car. He moved his hands back up to her belly, bringing her skirt and slip a part of the ways with them. Instead of sliding downwards to cover the vee between her legs, Derek changed course and moved between her thighs, exerting consistent force until she widened her stance and bent her legs outward.

"Don't forget your candy, Lydia," He reminded her in a low voice. She looked down and met his eyes. Oh, but he looked beautiful in his rightful place! She smiled at him and then bent her head back until she could rest it against the top of the car, placing the Tootsie roll pop back into her mouth and swirling her tongue around it. The sharp tang of cherry burst in her mouth.

Derek shoved his nose along her inner thighs until he was snuffling against her covered cunt. She could feel him nosing none-to-gently along the wet material that was all that separated him from the tender flesh. Moaning around the candy, she bucked her hips into his face. His response was to reach behind her to cup her bottom, and then use his claws to rip the panties off her body. The cool night air, moist with a hint of rain, wafted against her bare pussy. Lydia shivered at the tingle, mouth open and empty once more.

Looking down, she saw the werewolf-_ her Alpha, her equal_- just staring at her pussy. _Cunt-struck_, she thought with a wry little giggle. His eyes flickered up to her. "The candy, Lydia. Don't forget your candy." She whined but stuck the lollipop back in her mouth. It served as a pacifier when the tongue, warm and wriggling, slid through her pussy lips and flicked at her clit in greeting.

Moaning around the sucker, Lydia reached down with her other hand to grip the dark, thick hair between her legs. Clutching him to her body, Lydia did her best to grind her pussy into his face as Derek stopped teasing her and dove into his feast.

She could feel the rough pinpricks of his unshaven face against her inner thighs and even her pussy. Lydia didn't last long. She sucked hard on the cherry treat as her thighs began to shake from the onslaught of the long-awaited orgasm.

The tension in her body snapped and she bucked against his tongue, her thighs closing against his head and being abraded by his scruff. She bit down on the hard candy, feeling it crunch between her teeth.

Lydia tossed the chocolate-tipped stick in the general direction of the yard. Raising her heeled foot, she placed the stiletto against the tender skin between his collarbone and pectoral muscle and gave a hard shove. Derek was starting to wolf out the instant he hit the ground, and he sprung back into a crouching position, fangs and claws out in outrage at being denied his prize.

"Oh,_ shhhh_," she scolded him, reaching around to open the door behind her. She kept her eyes on his as she first pulled off her dress, followed soon by the green slip. Completely naked under the moonlight, Lydia luxuriated in the caress of the mist against her pale flesh. Aware that the man before her was partially given over to instinct, she kept her movements slow and steady. She reached down to slide the front seat forwards so that she could get into the backseat. Crawling backwards into the car, she held his gaze to hers.

"Come closer."

Derek shifted back into mostly human form, save for a hint of fang and claw. His scarlet eyes burned into hers as he crawled after her into the backseat. He closed the door behind him, still tense, his eyes tracking her movements as if waiting for a sign. As the lock mechanism clicked shut, the sound of a passing car dulled to a quiet hum. It was just Derek and Lydia and the anticipation humming in the space between them.

The white-yellow headlights danced over his face, passing them by, and then they were back in relative darkness. Lydia gripped his jacket in a fist and leveraged her body closer to his, enough to capture his lips in another kiss. She shivered as his calloused palms swept along her back, endeavouring to hold her close.

He followed her down until he was holding himself above her. She sighed at the feel of the leather against her bare body for the second time that day. His eyes remained on hers as she tugged him down, wanting the sweet weight of another body atop hers, pressing her down into the seats.

It was like a switch flicked on in his brain. And then he was plundering her mouth with his, sweeping his tongue against hers. Lydia snuck her hands back underneath his shirt and dug her nails into his back as if they were claws. He grunted and bucked his lower half against her. She rather liked the sensation of being completely naked while he was still dressed- the rougher material of his jeans abraded her inner thighs and pussy. She could feel the press of his erect cock and the give of his scrotum there.

She broke away from his mouth so her lungs could take in some much-needed air. "Touch me," she gasped as Derek traced a hot tongue around the inner membrane of her ear. "Just touch me."

And he did: grasping her right knee and pulling it up until she wrapped her leg around his hips, sliding one hand up her thigh and another into the strands of hair behind her head. This time, it was her turn to shiver when he tugged on her scalp.

He got onto his knees, as much as he could in the crowded backseat, and yanked off his jacket and Henley while Lydia busied herself with his belt and zipper. "Well, you going commando…that's predictable." She quipped with a small smirk.

She moved up to her knees as well so that she could bend over the front seat and reach the packets of condoms she had in her purse. Derek must have decided there was no way he'd be able to comfortably pull this off lying down in the cramped backseat, and she could feel him shifting into a seated position behind her. The picture she presented was just too delectable for the werewolf to resist and she found herself floundering as sharp nips were taken from the curve of her ass, along the slope of her spine, and finally from the soft flesh between her neck and shoulder. Each of the little bites was followed either by a gentle kiss or a slow lick. Clutching the condoms in one fist, she twisted around and climbed onto his lap, and found herself held in place by his hands on each of her buttocks.

Russian Red was smeared all over his lips. She may not have been a wolf, but this would be how she marked him. _Mine_.

Lydia kissed him passionately while she ripped open one package behind his back. She felt the coarse and wiry pelt of hair that covered his chest abrade her nipples. That made him groan into her mouth, and when she reached between their bodies to grasp his erection and give him several slow pumps, he made the noise again, only louder. Derek opened his eyes and focused on Lydia- on her eyelashes, on her nose, on her lips- as she unrolled the condom over him.

"Now," she nodded. "I'm going to take you now."

Lydia wanted this badly, so badly, but she forced her body to relax as she reached down to guide him into her. She lowered herself onto him slowly, inch by inch, reveling in the stretch of her pussy walls around his cock. Derek's hands were gripping her hips and his head was thrown back, the muscles in his face twitching with what she hoped was effort not to shoot his load this early. The thought fed her ego, but if that really happened, she would be very cross.

She couldn't resist the expanse of skin laid out in front of her and leaned down to place soft kisses along the column of his throat. She could feel the motion of his adam's apple there. "Oh, fuck!" She swore as she bottomed out atop him. A wriggle of her hips and she was comfortably positioned.

Then there was nothing in the darkness but the two of them gyrating against one other and the sound of their harsh breathing. Thunder boomed outside and moments later, rain began to pelt the Camaro. Over the roar, Lydia moaned and clutched at his biceps, using them as leverage to fuck herself harder on his cock. She wasn't one for patience when she found the thread to her orgasm, and Lydia rocked her pelvis into his again and again (and again and again), ignoring the slap of skin on skin. The windows of the car began to fog over.

Lydia felt like her lungs were going to burst as she bore down up on her release. She met Derek's gaze with her own and, unable to bear it anymore, leaned down and bit him in his pecs, hard. The movement of his hips underneath her stuttered and she heard the wolf roar. Gasping as her head was yanked away by the rope of her hair wrapped around his fist. Even with her head forced backwards at an awkward angle, Lydia kept her eyes upon his face. Scarlet eyes met hers and she began to move again, but faster.

Derek relaxed his hold on her hair and Lydia pulled herself forward until she could lick at the wound she had left. She rotated her hips against his as she nipped her way up to his jaw. When she bit down on his lower lip, one of his hands moved from it's position against her breast and pressed down on her clit.

Everything went supernova behind her eyelids. She wailed, she shuddered, she felt her world constrict to the sensation of her cunt grasping at his cock. Her release rippled and pounded away from the muscles between her thighs, all the way to her curled toes and her stiffened neck.

A sharp pain brought her back to reality, and with a soft moan, Lydia opened her eyes and shakily regarded the world around her. She was still bent backwards and Derek was panting heavily against her chest. His hips were no longer moving, telling her that he had climaxed. The pain localized on her shoulder and the realization was slow seeping into her orgasm-addled mind that he must have bitten her. But he couldn't turn her. And actually, Lydia was okay with that.

The knowledge granted her a measure of power. The lovers curled into one other as the storm raged outside.

("_Because the fire that killed your family is still burning for you. It's consuming you from within at every waking moment." Lydia railed at him, eyes flashing ruthlessly. "You're the Alpha, you're the werewolf, but there's little left of Derek Hale. I'm not saying you're wrong to grieve, but you're alive. You may not see that as being lucky when the rest of your family is gone, but it's up to you to keep them alive. To remember them. And that means you have to remember who you were. Who you are." Derek growled at her, wishing that one of the pack were there to make sure he didn't tear this maddening girl into ribbons. Breathing heavily, he stared her down. She knew. She knew, she knew, she knew..._

_"And who do you think I am, Lydia?"_

_Her demeanor seemed to change in that moment, which threw him. The petite redhead lowered her hands from their position on her hips. She wasn't smirking at him. She wasn't challenging him with her eyes. She had folded into whatever was underneath the glossy shell. Lydia stepped closer and blinked up at him. She spoke softly, with even measure. Convinction, he thought._

_"I think your name is Derek and you love the smell of the woods after rain, playing baseball, and you wanted to study literature and poetry in college. I also know that no matter how much your little sister Kendra annoyed you, you always saved the last slice of your grandmother's cherry pie for her."_

_Derek lost himself for a long time after that. If any other words were exchanged, he didn't remember. But he remembered Lydia Martin reaching out tentatively for his forearm. Once she was touching him, soothing him, she told him (but she did not plead)-_

_"A ghost can't be a good Alpha, Derek._")

"I'm not a ghost." Derek murmurred against her breast.

His only answer was the drowsy caress of her fingers through his hair and the percussion of her slowing heartbeat under his cheek. Outside, the rain pattered on the surface of his car.


End file.
